


Bloody Afterglow

by NemesisNecrosis



Category: Bleach
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Masochism, Non-Consensual Bondage, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NemesisNecrosis/pseuds/NemesisNecrosis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first it was just the knives. </p><p>He traced lines and swirls and patterns along my arms and down my back, letting the blood run down onto the floor to puddle around my knees, to soak into my pants and stain his feet. I didn't scream; tried not to make any noise at all, actually, because I was perfectly aware of my kinks, and knew that if I allowed myself to make a sound he would become aware of them, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloody Afterglow

**Author's Note:**

> Point-of-view character might be an OC, might be a canon character, but either way this is a situation where someone besides Orihime gets kidnapped and ends up in Las Noches in the custody of Ichimaru Gin. Turns out he's a bit of a sadist, and she's a bit of a masochist, and what might have been torture and entirely non-consensual bloodplay and sex turns into more reluctant participation on the part of the victim. 
> 
> This is my first real attempt at smut, by the way. What a thing to start on, huh?

At first it was just the knives.

He traced lines and swirls and patterns along my arms and down my back, letting the blood run down onto the floor to puddle around my knees, to soak into my pants and stain his feet. I didn't scream; tried not to make any noise at all, actually, because I was perfectly aware of my kinks, and knew that if I allowed myself to make a sound he would become aware of them, too.

But I must have given some indication, or perhaps he already knew, or just didn't care, because on the second night in he licked up the blood from that night's first cut, and I shivered. My small hairs stood on end and I resigned myself to the knowledge that I would probably enjoy this. Perhaps most people would try to deny it, but if there was one thing I hated, it was denial.

* * *

 

Gentle caresses countered perfectly placed slices and left me shuddering, breathing harshly into the stone wall my forehead rested against. I wondered if he was as aroused as I was, then I cursed to myself internally as he pressed his bare chest to me, feeling his cock straining through his pants against the small of my back. He must be covered in blood by now, as for every cut he traced with his tongue he left five more to bleed and mop up at the end of the session. If I'd been in my human body, I would have died of blood loss by now; as it was I felt ever so slightly dizzy by the time he was done each night, breathless and weak.

As his hands traced the scarred skin of my back, avoiding the open wounds, I clenched my teeth against a moan. His fingers were soft, calluses conspicuous by their absence on the hands of a captain-level Shinigami, but even the slightest touch stung, just enough to light my nerves and make my breath catch.

He pulled away for a moment, and my ears caught the rustle of fabric as he stood and loosened the tie around his waist, baring himself fully. He retook his seat behind me, lower to the ground than before, and let his hands slide up my bare legs to my hips. My breathing came harsher than before, heart beating a tattoo in my chest that sped up the blood lost from the new slits in my back, all perfect depth as usual, straight through the skin but not even nicking the muscle. I wondered how much he'd practiced to get that precise; I wondered _who_ he'd practiced _on_.

His lips grazed my neck, breath ghosting against my ear but making not a sound, as always. He was silent, maybe waiting for me to make the first sound, or maybe not. In the five days I'd spent in that room all I'd learned of him was that he was brilliant with a knife, had steady, soft hands, and enjoyed a little bloodplay as much as I did.

One of his hands drifted down between my thighs, and he slid a finger up through the folds of my sex, stopping to exert a little pressure on my clit. I gave a little gasp, much to my chagrin, and felt his lips smile a little against my shoulder, where they had drifted. The tip of his tongue flicked out from between them, as that one finger circled, and the simultaneous sensations made me choke on my breath.

I wondered idly why he'd waited so long to move onto this, as I'd been fully naked for three days by then and obviously aroused for longer. Then all conscious thought fled as he slowly pushed his thumb inside of me, his middle finger joining his pointer finger at my clit. His thumb grazed a spot inside me that made me go rigid, and he bared his teeth in a slight grin that turned into a gentle nip against the side of my neck.

The thumb pulled out slightly and thrust in, hitting the spot each time in a rhythm with the fingers rolling over the nub, and his mouth joined in, nipping and licking at the sensitive scar tissue across my shoulders. I clenched my eyes tightly shut, my mouth falling open to let out puffs of air and soft, intermittent sounds, my silence forgotten in the face of this new torture. His other hand wandered up from my hip to cup one breast, clever fingers closing around the nipple there, gently squeezing and stroking circles in time with his other movements. The alternating pain and pleasure slowly but surely built, tensing my muscles and leaving me gasping for breath, until just before I reached climax he pulled away, dragging wet fingers along my leg and causing an embarrassing whine to leave my lips.

He chuckled darkly, a little breathless himself, and shuffled forward so my back rested fully against him, his cock slipping between my legs to rest just under my dripping folds, nudging against the opening there. He slipped his arms around me, pulling me back against him, his chest and my back slippery with blood and sweat stinging the open cuts, the pressure leaving me gasping in pain. His teeth found my throat and he bit down there, not breaking the skin and letting up after a moment to suckle the spot, moving down after another and leaving a trail of red blotches and teeth marks. I wondered why he bothered staking ownership in this way; if I ever escaped this room I knew I'd never be able to look at the scars on my body without remembering him.

After a few more moments of this he shifted, lifting me slightly and sheathing his cock inside of me in one easy movement. I was wet enough from his earlier treatment that there was hardly any resistance, and it wasn't like I was virginal before this. His lips and teeth stopped in their journey down my shoulder, but he gave no sign of stimulus but for a hitch in his breath and the slightly rougher bite.

After a moment to get used to this new situation, he shifted again, pushing me up so my breasts and cheek rested against the cold wall. I tightened my grip on the sekkiseki chains that held my arms in place, dizzy from blood loss, reiatsu drain and the near-orgasm, eyes glazed and teeth gritted. His hands took a hard grip on my hips and his legs slid to rest against the inside of my own, spread and shackled to the ground. Then he pulled out and thrust in, releasing a soft grunt and hitting that same spot from earlier, making me shudder.

He made three more rough thrusts, before I gave in and pushed back to meet him, and we developed a slow rhythm, releasing grunts and moans alternately. He leaned forward and dragged his teeth along my back, worrying the forming scabs on that night's fresh cuts and spilling new blood. My eyes rolled back as his tongue followed a new one along the right side of my spine, before he pulled away, his harsh breath puffing against me.

His forehead fell against my back as our rhythm became more erratic, faster and rougher and still hitting home each time, thoughtless sounds tumbling out of my mouth, unvoiced moans vibrating in his throat. I felt the pressure build up again, faster this time but just as powerful, until it reached the point of no return and I stiffened, clenching hard around his cock in time with each wave of pleasure. The pressure caused him to release a loud moan, conspicuous in the absence of any sound from me, as my throat closed up around any words I might have said.

I slid down and away from the wall, my hands sliding down the sweat-slicked chain until it pulled my arms taut above my head. He thrust inside twice more, teeth finding purchase in my shoulder to prevent another outburst as he released inside of me, pulsing as his seed filled me and slipped down around his cock to spill out onto his legs.

We rested like that for a few minutes, the only sound that of harsh breaths which slowly evened and quieted. As we basked in bloody afterglow, his hands meandered up from my hips over my stomach, tightening there to hold me close. Eventually, his teeth loosened their grip on my shoulder, leaving a bloody bite mark in their wake as he leaned his head forward to rest against the wall next to mine.

When I cracked open my eyes I could see his hair covering his face, pale and dull in the almost-darkness of the room. After a moment his eye cracked open as well, light blue regarding me lazily, taking in my weary eyes and dizzy expression. A smirk curled his red-smeared lips and he turned his face to the side, resting his cheek on the cold stone to watch me watch him.

I wasn't sure if he'd gotten what he wanted from me, I wasn't even sure _what_ he wanted from me. But I was fairly sure I wanted to do that again.

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, I'm aware that were this real life and not a fantasy situation, this would completely qualify as rape, hence the rape/non-con warning.


End file.
